alous. My
jealousy's only love the wrong side up--that's all.

Doctor. I know it is, and I'm so glad that my first case has
come when you were here. You are a mascotte indeed! _(stoops and
kisses her)_

Flora. If I stop, I'm sure lots and lots and lots will come.

Doctor. _(not noticing, absorbed in letter)_ This is the very
case I've always been hoping for, and I've got if at last! Just
look at the gold crest, and the thick paper. No, don't read it.
Oh, it's worth three guineas a week, if it's worth a penny, and
it's a three years' job--bar accidents.

Flora. What's she got?

Doctor. Hysterical paraplegia--she's afflicted with all sorts of
abnormal fancies and longings.

_(Front door bell rings.)_

Flora. _(jumping up suddenly from her knees)_ Who's that? Another
lady afflicted with all sorts of longings?

Doctor. _(seriously, rubbing his hands)_ I hope so--devoutly,
_(rises suddenly)_ By George! If it's auntie!1 She mustn't find
you here.

Flora. _(running about aimlessly)_ Where shall I go? _(crosses
L., runs towards bathroom R. U. E)_

Doctor. _(stopping her)_ Not in my _bedroom!_

Flora. Why not? I'm your wife!

Doctor. Oh, yes, I forgot. But aunt may want to take her things
off, and if she found _you_ there, the whole story'd have to come
out, and she might think it was a fairy tale, and that would be
awful! I know--on my operating couch.

Flora. _(shrieks)_ Ach! Operating!

_(Runs down O. P.., crosses R. corner and then round table C.,
followed by Doctor.)_

Doctor. It's all right! It won't bite you! _(takes up rug)_ I'll
chuck this rug over you. She'll think it's something anatomical.
She'll never suspect it's my blushing bride.

Flora. Oh, Jack, why should you hide your blushing bride? She's
sure to find me _here_.

Doctor. No, no, she won't!

Flora. She _will! I'm so conspicuous!_ _(sits on sofa)_

Doctor. The _more_ conspicuous the better, when you want to hide
anything. It disarms suspicion, _(down stage)_

Flora. _(jumps off couch, and stalks down to him in a towering
rage)_ Jack! You've done this _before!!_

Doctor. Never! I swear! Do help me now, and all will come right,
_(drags her back and covers her up)_

Flora. _(popping her head out)_ Oh, hubby, are you _sure_ we're
_properly_ married?

Doctor. Quite. Lie still, _(same Bus.)_

Flora. _(same Bus.)_ It doesn't feel like it a bit. Oh, it's a
horrid, horrid wedding day! _(kicks and disarranges rug)_

Doctor. _(putting